Assassin's Creed: Marshal of the Templars
by Teutonic Knight 92
Summary: As Al-Mualim and Robert de Sable wage their secert war in the Holy Land, William de Beaumont the Marshal of the Templars acts behind the scenes to enact his Master's will even as his brother templars fall to the assassin's blades. ON HOLD
1. Prolouge

Assassin's Creed Fanfiction

**Assassin's Creed: The Marshal of Templars **

**Prologue **

It was the year of our Lord 1191 and the Third Crusade was in full swing. Richard the Lionhearted had defeated the Egyptian Sultan Saladin at the siege of Acre and the battle of Arsuf. With the Sultan defeated he now threatened to march on Jerusalem, the Holy City of the three faiths of the Holy Land.

Deep beneath the holy city and the once wondrous Temple of Solomon a contingent of knights and sergeants belonging to the order of the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, better known as the Knights Templar or simply the Templars, moved through secret passages beneath the temple.

Originally founded to escort Christian pilgrims through hostile lands to Jerusalem the Templars however found themselves in a more military role serving the Holy Roman Catholic Church and the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. They had performed their duties honorably and joyfully in the name of their Lord Christ Jesus and Almighty God. That was until a discovery destroyed all they believed. With the discovery of what they would come to call Pieces of Eden they came to realize that their God and all gods were false delusions of man.

With that realization they privately renounced religion and devoted themselves to a new goal: collecting the Pieces of Eden and using their power to create a new perfect world.

"I cannot believe it's been here all this time," the French Grand Master of the Knights Templar Robert de Sable said with a shake of his head , "right beneath our very arses."

De Sable was a tall powerfully built man in his mid-thirties. He was bald with only a small tuff of brown hair on his chin. Women considered him to have attractive features. Despite what he looked like he was a man feared by all who knew him.

"We never had much time to waste digging," William de Beaumont a Norman Knight and the Marshal of the Templars said bluntly. William like de Sable was a tall man though unlike de Sable he had a black goatee and short close cropped black hair. He had his resting on his sword as he nearly always did.

Behind the two noblemen a group of four sergeants traveled acting as a guard. They all wore the standard accruements of their order, a white surcoat emblazoned with a red cross over chainmail. They were armed with steel long swords.

Coming to a large chamber Robert de Sable called out, "I want to escape before sunrise. The sooner we get out of here the sooner we can turn our attentions to those jackals at Masyaf."

William had to agree. The Assassin at been a pain in his and the Templar's side for far too long. He had had enough of this accursed land and longed to leave the desert and return to the green fields of Normandy, "And the sooner we can get back to France."

"Aye ," de Sable said with a savage smile, "to France and all the wine and wenches we can handle."

The sergeants let out a hearty laugh and William was about to join them when he noticed movement in the shadows. Frowning he squinted his eyes as he unsheathed about a quarter of his sword cautiously, unsure what he saw.

"William," de Sable called out.

William opened his mouth was about to call the men to arms when a male voice laced with arrogance called from the shadows, "Hold Templars you are not the only one with business here."

Drawing his sword William pointed it at one of the three assassins who materialize from the shadows.

"Hold my friend," Robert de Sable said with a placating hand gesture before turning to the assassins, "Well this explains my missing man… and what is it you want," he snarled.

"Blood," the assassin snarled back and lunged extending the hidden blade from a devise on his left arm. De Sable however avoided the blade and caught the assassin's wrists hoisting them up and away from himself.

"You know not in the affairs you meddle… assassin," William heard de Sable growl, "I spare you only that you may take this message to you master. The Holy Land is lost to him and his. He should flee if he values your live or you will all die!"

And with that de Sable in an impressive display of strength hurled the assassin through the archway through which they had just come. The assassin hit a wooden beam which caused the archway to collapse.

Turning back to face the other two de Sable ordered, "To arms kill the assassins!"

The sergeants drew their blades as the two remain assassins did the same and the fight was joined. Isolating one of the assassins William struck fast and hard driving the smaller man back. The sound of steel rang out as the blades clashed against one another.

Striking low William caught the assassin with the point of his sword on the inside of his right thigh sending the man sprawling to the ground with a shout of pain. William stood over the man and drew his sword back intending on skewering the assassin. However the man wouldn't die easily, striking out with his left leg he caught William squaring in the chest with the flat of his boot.

Gasping as the air was forced from his lungs he staggered back. The assassin leapt to his feet and slashed down on William's sword sending it clattering to the ground. Undeterred William lashed out with his left gauntleted hand catching his opponent across his face with the back of his hand sending the assassin sprawling once more to the ground.

The Norman knight lifted his armored boot and brought it down on the assassin's sword arm. William grinned savagely as he felt the assassin's bones in his arm shatter under the pressure. The man screamed in pain and William kneeled pressing his left knee into the small of the assassins left arm.

"You should not have come here assassin," growled in heavily accented Arabic. Spending twenty years in this damned land had taught him the language. Plus he always found it more intimidating when you spoke in someone's native tongue. Drawing his long dagger from his belt he held the point to the assassin's throat, "You dumb _Merde_," he said cursing in French and thrust his dagger into the man's throat.

Withdrawing the dagger he wiped it on his surcoat before slipping it back on his belt. He heard a shout of pain and a string of curses in German as one of the templars fell and the assassin fled back into the shadows.

"_Crisse_," William heard Robert de Sable vehemently curse in French, "The Piece of Eden!"

William felt his heart jump up in his throat as he realized that the fallen sergeant had been the one carrying the Piece of Eden in his purse. The assassin must have grabbed it during the fight.

The German sergeant moaned in plain from a wound in his stomach, "_Désespéré_," de Sable swore and smashed the German's face in with his armored boot.

"We've to go after the little _Merde_," William snarled picking up his sword and replacing in its scabbard.

De Sable shook his head and slammed his armored fist into the stone wall, "The assassins are agile _enculé_ they scurry like rats in the sewers. The little _Merde _is gone by now."

"Then we ride hard for Jaffa and gather our brothers stationed there," William offered determinedly. He would not let the assassins embarrass him or his master. If need be he'd slaughter the whole of the Holy Land if it helped him get the Piece of Eden back. After all what were lives compared to the power to rule the world.

A thoughtful look crossed de Sable's face as he began to pace and he said, "Lay siege to Masyaf? Yes," he decided, "we'll burn the rats from their hovel."

"Though what of the lion heart," William said rubbing his goatee thinking of Richard. Now that he thought of it he doubted the English King would appreciated if the Grand Master took the Templars from the crusader army.

"We'll think of something to tell Richard," de Sable said clapping William on the shoulder.

Translation

Merde: Shit

Crisse: Christ

Désespéré: Hopless/Useless

Enculé: one who takes it in the ass


	2. Chapter 1

**Assassin's Creed: Marshal of the Templars**

Chapter 1

It had taken nearly two weeks, riding day and night killing their horses in the process, for the Grand Master and the Marshal to make it Jaffa, gather a small army of templar knights and men-at-arms. Then it took over three days on a forced march for the army to make it to Masyaf, arriving just behind the two surviving assassins.

Finally Masyaf came into sight and William had to admit the fortress was impressive; built right into the side of the mountain it made formidable structure.

"Ride ahead the gates will be opened," de Sable ordered and William knew exactly what the Grand Master wanted.

William lifted his chainmail hood pulling it over his head, then he took his great helm from its resting place on his saddle horn and placed it upon his head. Drawing his sword he lifted the gleaming steel weapon in the air and cried, "Calvary… forward!"

The mounted templar knights some armed with swords while others still had their swords sheathed and carried lit torches charged forward making straight for the gates of Masyaf. As they reached the gates they were thrown open by de Sable's agent and the templars flooded in.

"Kill them all," the Marshal of the Templars ordered as he swung his sword downward in a deadly arc killing a screaming woman as she fled, "Burn the place to the ground!"

Following orders several of the knights threw their torches setting homes in the small village alight. The ruthless knights ran down the fleeing civilians and put them to the sword. No mercy was shown, the masters of these people had stolen from the Templars and now they would pay the price.

As he hacked down another person, a small child this time, he wondered what had become of his mission. Twenty years ago he had come to this land to fight for God and secure the Holy Land for Christendom; now knowing his god was not real he wondered if perhaps ignorance was bliss.

His sword flashed again and another person died. Without God there was no morality to restrain his hand, no fear of purgatory or of the flames of hell, there was only one rule: ends justify the means.

"Marshal the assassins come," one of the knights shouted pointing his sword as a wave of white clothed figures came down into the village.

A cold cruel smile tugged at his lips. They'd acted he predicted, coming out to protect the villagers even though military prudence demanded the villagers be sacrificed to protect the fortress.

"Reform the line," he called out tugging on the reins of his horse, prompting the beast to form a battle line. The knights formed into a line and William grabbed his shield with his left hand before he spurred his horse forward, "Charge," he shouted raising his sword.

Both the templars and the assassins knew who held the edge in this fight and it wasn't the assassins. The templars were masters in the art of war and on the field of battle. In a straight fight neither Muslim nor assassin could be expected to take the day. Still the assassins fought and an age ago he would have congratulated them on their courage and chivalry.

Now he called it stupidity. His horse slammed into the foremost assassin breaking bones and sending the man to the ground. Slashing with his sword he decapitated one and disemboweled another. From the corner of his eye he saw one of his knights go down.

Turning in his saddle he saw an assassin, the one from Solomon's Temple he realized, unhorsed said knight with the spear point of a flagpole before finishing him off with his hidden blade. His horse flared out with its hooves impacting an assassin killing him. His sword flashed several more times and more men fell to his blade.

The knights were on the offensive and the assassins were sacrificing blood for time. Suddenly he heard a higher ranking assassin yell in Arabic, "Fallback to the Citadel… fallback!"

The assassins retreated and more than a few fell as they did, "Give chase," William ordered though he knew it was a redundant order. The templars smelled blood in the water and were like sharks honing in on the kill.

William and the templars chased the retreating assassins up the slope and through the village; the rear-guard set fire to the houses as they did. The gates of Masyaf proper flew open to allow the assassins in. At the same time from the ramparts a hail of arrow rained down upon the knights.

"Shields," William called raising his small heater shield just in time to block several arrows. Some of the knights were not as lucky as arrows imbedded themselves in arms, legs, chests, heads and horses.

"_Merde," _the Norman cursed violently as he heard the gates of the Citadel slam. There was no longer any point in staying here to be cut apart, "Retreat," he called waving his sword and spurring his horse. He turned galloping back down the hilly road towards the main column of templar sergeants and men-at-arms.

At the head of the column rode Robert-de Sable himself, "Milord they've fled into the citadel," the Norman spoke.

De Sable nodded, "That was to be expected … perhaps the jackals can be convinced to returning that which they have stolen from me… if not," he said with a savage smile touching his face, "you can slaughter them like the dogs they are, my friend."

Only partially listening he nodded opting instead to review the men. They numbered nearly a hundred and fifty men, battle hardened veterans of dozens of campaigns and a lifetime of fighting in the Holy Land. These unlike the warriors that made the majority of feudal armies, Crusader and Saracen alike, were solely professional soldier the likes of which had not been seen since the legions of Rome and were outfitted by one of the riches organizations in the world.

Each of the templar infantry wore a suit of chainmail underneath a white surcoat emblazoned with a red across; on their heads sat steel helms and on their hands and feet steel gauntlets and boots. They were equipped with six foot spears and large kite shields that covered from their eyes to their ankles. From their belts hung short-swords used in close up fighting if or when the enemy got under their spears.

They were perhaps the finest fighting force in the world and today he would command them in battle once more.

The Grand Master of the Order of the Knights Templar rode forth and his army marched behind him, shields raised to ward off missile attacks. Robert be Sable was now within bowshot of the Citadel looking up towards the battlements, "Heretic," he shouted, "Return what you have stolen from me!"

William de Beaumont was also staring at the battlements knowing full well that they were within the range of the archers and therefore vulnerable. He saw movements upon the battlements and prepared to raise his shield and call the infantry forward when an old man appeared.

"It does not belong to Robert de Sable," the old man called. It was a voice William had heard before… Al-Mualim, bastard, traitor, swine; though the curses the Norman could call upon were great there was none within his arsenal foul enough for that man.

The Grand Master of the Assassins addressed the Grand Master of Templars as if he were threatening a child with the removal of his toys, "Be gone from here before I am forced to thin your ranks further."

The Marshal gave a sharp laugh. Thin their ranks further? The village was littered with the dead and dying, true, but they were not templars but assassins and their ilk. Turning to the knight-commander he ordered, "bring up the ram and latters. I fear diplomacy shall fail us this day," he paused considering, "and fetch the hostages."

William could see the knight's eyes glimmer at the thought of battle as the man turned his horse to give orders and prepare the attack. De Sable it seemed was still trading barbs with the old man of the mountains, though it seemed the old man was getting the better of him as de Sable's temper mounted. William hoped this would come to blows soon.

The Templars could ill-afford a siege, without a line of supply they would run out of food and water long before the assassins did. Plus Richard expected Robert to meet him along the road to Jerusalem. The King of England would surely not be pleased if his vassal disobeyed him.

"You play a dangerous game," the Templar master snarled shaking his fist.

"I assure you this is no game," the assassin called back.

"So be it," De Sable growled with a frustrated gesture, "bring up the hostages."

William repeated the order and six men-at-arms came forward dragging three hostages, two men and a young woman. He made a slashing gesture across his throat and the men-at-arms didn't hesitate dragging their swords slicing the hostages' throats.

Whirling back to face Al-Mualim whose face was a picture of cold indifference de Sable roared, "Your village is in ruins and in moments my men will storm your walls. How long will it be before your castle is in flames and your pawns lay dead?"

Al-Mualim leaned forward over the battlements, "Do you believe my men fear death de Sable. They welcome it and the rewards they bring."

What rewards William thought sardonically. Nothing was what waited for them in death, absolutely nothing. There was no God to comfort them, no Heaven awaited them. Death was death the end of all things.

The Assassin Grand Master looked up where a small group of assassins stood on the edge of planks jutting from the castle's turret, "Show these fool knights what it is to have no fear," and to William's amazement the assassins jumped plummeting to a certain death, "Go to God," the old man finished.

From the ranks he heard whispers of amazement and disbelief along with laughs and statements to the idiocy of the assassins.

"Do you expect suicide to scare Al-Mualim. If you men are so eager to die than allow mine to hasten their trip," Robert de Sable said edging his horse back towards the mass of his men giving William a quick nod.

William raised his hand, "Men show no mercy. Do not stay your sword slay them all. May their deaths herald the beginning of a new world, a better world. May the Father of Understanding guide your hands," and with that he was about to signal them forward when he heard a sound from behind them.

From a ruined tower behind them came a truly terrible sound. William felt a sickening feeling in his stomach as he turned in the saddle to face the sound. They'd walked into a trap he realized too late though as a trapdoor sprung open and from it spilled about a dozen massive logs.

In the space of ten seconds he'd gone from being assured of victory to the near certainty of defeat, "Scatter," he shouted knowing full well its futility. In this situation the tight formation of the templars worked against them.

The logs crashed into the center of the formation with devastating effect crushing and killing scores of templars. The Norman knight spurred his horse away from the deadly timber but it was too late as a log impacted his horse throwing in from it and ironically saving his life. His horse was crushed beneath the timber but he was thrown clear.

Coughing raggedly William torn his helmet from his head and wobbly stood. As the dust settled he felt his blood chill despite the scorching sun. Strewn corpses lay every, limbs twisted at strange angles and chests and heads smashed.

Staggering his way down the road he found the survivors of his army. Thankfully the Grand Master was among them, "Milord," he called out walking tall. He didn't know whether de Sable would have him killed, but if he did he promised he go down with one hell of a fight. The Grand Master hadn't seen the ambush either.

"Find a horse," de Sable ground out, "we need to find Richard and return to Acre."

William nodded solemnly as he looked around and saw the pitiful remains of the templar force. He counted three knights and less than twenty infantry. Al-Mualim would pay he swore… he would pay.

"We've lost a battle," de Sable said, "nothing more."


End file.
